


Mutually Beneficial

by TittyAlways



Category: D. Gray-man
Genre: It's raining, M/M, Stuck in Rio de Janeiro, Tyki has a crush, allen got shot, stuck in a wArehouse in rio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TittyAlways/pseuds/TittyAlways
Summary: There are some moments that are so simple and beautiful, even when they're not simple at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> //kiCKS DOWN DOOR  
> BOY I TELL YA THIS WAS NOT WHAT I WAS MEANT TO WRITE TODAY BUT I DANG DARN DID IT

South America was a place that Tyki Mikk had had every intention of loving. It was, in fact, a place he _had_ loved. The people, the weather, the endless opportunities for drunken gambles. The _energy_ of the place was incredible. Tyki wished with all his heart that he were on the other side of the planet. Back in Edo. With Road and the Earl and fucking _Sheril,_ who had _abandoned_ him in _Brazil_ with no money or resources or _any way to contact anyone to tell them where the fuck he is so they could come get him out._ Plus, there was a fucking monsoon brewing. He could hardly _breathe,_ the air was so thick and he had long since forsaken his suit jacket, resigned to a half-unbuttoned sweat-soaked dress shirt and slacks that he wanted to set on fire for the way they trapped heat. But it wasn’t like he had any _other_ clothes. And he’d lost his patent leather shoes in his last - read: _L A S T,_ final, never again will he touch a deck - game of whatever prison rules brand of poker the locals played. A game which he had joined out of _desperation,_ certain that it would be his only chance to make a few dollars to get on a boat. Or make a phone call. Or _something._

By all natural laws, being stranded in Rio de Janeiro should not be a bad thing. But Tyki was dirty, sweaty, barefooted, overheated, underfinanced, _hungry_ and had no place to stay. Not to mention, he was running. Which felt more like wading, really. The humidity was obscene and he was _running_ and every breath felt like he was getting just a little bit closer to drowning and _why the fuck should he have to run anyway?_ He was the goddamn Noah of Pleasure, was basically a god compared to these men. But he’d tried to cheat them after losing his shoes and they had guns and _yeah_ he could just let the bullets go right through him but bullets were _fast_ and Tyki didn’t much fancy topping off his really quite remarkably shitty day with being _shot._ Or, incidentally, running into an exorcist. Which, follow-up statement: he would probably rather be shot. But one of those two things was fated to happen and Tyki kind of wanted to beat his head against the nearest house when it turned out exactly the way he wished it hadn’t.

To set the scene: Tyki, running as quickly as his bare feet could carry him through Rio’s dirty backstreets. Three men following him with gunshots and yells of bloody murder in a language Tyki _really_ wished he didn’t understand. Not because he was scared, but because they were so crude it was almost painful to listen to. A sharp right turn into a narrow alley. An iconic hooded black coat running straight towards him from the exit. The men rushing to close off Tyki’s only other escape. His instinct was to dive headlong through the exorcist - a gamble he wished he could cheat at. And right as he preparing to run through him, a shot went off. The bullet passed straight through Tyki’s body without leaving a mark and sunk into the exorcist’s shoulder, jerking his left arm back while his mouth dropped open to scream in shocked pain.

And as he threw his head back, arm coming up to clutch his shoulder right as Tyki was about to pass through him, Joyd _recognised_ that fucker at the same time as Tyki got a good look at his face. It was less a conscious thought and more a panic-driven reflex, but the leap that was meant to be him clearing right through the exorcist turned into a lunge to catch him around the waist and drag the two of them through the wall of the alley. From there, it was just. A mess. A big, ugly mess where the people whose house they’d fallen into were screaming and Allen was screaming and Tyki was laying him down on the kitchen floor with shaking hands trying to figure out what the _fuck_ had just happened.

He was pressing a hand too hard over Allen’s, jarring the wound but frantic to stop the bleeding. _“Nea!”_ he yelled, throat raw, and realised that he was screaming too. “Get me a goddamn cloth or something!” he demanded frantically to the hysterical woman by the kitchen door who probably didn’t speak a single damn word of English but Tyki was a bit fucking hysterical himself and didn’t exactly have the presence of mind to find the words in Portuguese and she was shoving the children away anyway, running to the door and screaming for the police. Allen was breathing sharp, sobbing breaths, probably about to go into shock or something, and one of those fucking dirty gun-toting gamblers was competing with the woman’s yells outside the door so all Tyki could do was slap a bloody hand over Allen’s mouth and lean in close, pin his frantic eyes with a look of murderous sobriety and hiss, “Don’t make a damn sound. Okay?”

Allen nodded frantically behind his hand, eyes wide and glazed. Tyki didn’t know if he understood or if he was in shock or if he was about to start screaming the second Tyki moved his hand but if he did then Tyki would leave him, Noah or not. The kid was a fucking exorcist, _and_ he had Nea. Even with a bullet in his arm, Tyki would feel no guilt in leaving him behind. The gunman was getting closer - he’d kicked his way into the house. The mother was screaming again, the children were crying. Tyki got his arms around Allen’s waist and hoisted him up, pulling his uninjured arm around his neck. Allen gave a hoarse grunt of pain at the rough handling and kept his other arm tucked against his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

“We’re going to run,” Tyki whispered, supporting him. “Ready?” Allen seemed to swallow back his response and nodded, mouth a grim line and cheeks whiter than they should be. “Deep breaths,” Tyki instructed sharply and he sucked in one himself before dashing back through the wall. Allen choked on a groan that was halfway between pain and nausea, squeamish at the sensation of passing straight through a solid surface. One of the men was still in the alley, on watch for where they’d disappeared. Tyki didn’t hesitate and pushed straight through the wall of the opposite building - another house. He ran through in a straight line, ignoring any furniture and walls in his way while he stumbled along with Allen as quickly as they could.

They exited onto another street and kept going, running and running through buildings and streets while the heavy, purple clouds sat oppressive and low overhead, the air unmoving and thick enough to choke on. There weren’t many people on the streets, most seeking whatever shelter they had from the threatening rumble of thunder. Even the birds and street rats had found somewhere to hole away. The drops started splattering down while they ran, then pouring, then hammering. It was unlike anything Tyki had seen, each fat drop landing heavy enough to sting. In less than a minute the city was misting from the backspray of the rain striking off roofs and streets and Tyki was slipping in an inch of water. Allen was stumbling, becoming more and more of a deadweight.

“Don’t you dare lose consciousness, boy,” Tyki yelled over the roar of the rain, hoisting Allen up. There was a building ahead that Tyki assumed was some kind of warehouse for a nearby business - brick shed, large roller doors set in the facade. He just hoped to god it was empty and had a cask of wine. Which, okay yeah that was incredibly unlikely. But definitely ideal. Maybe it was a winery’s storehouse, who fucking knew.

He passed through the wall, dragging Allen with him. It was incredibly dark and while they were no longer under threat of being drowned, the downpour was drumming a deafening din on the roof. But Tyki could feel Allen’s weak breathing now, could pay attention to how heavily he was leaning on him.

“Oi,” he demanded, stooping to lower the exorcist to the dusty floor. “Oi, boy. You’re still there, right?” He laid Allen down, trying to jostle him as little as possible and squinting in the dark to try judge his condition. He was breathing heavily, that much Tyki could tell. His skin was cold, but they were both soaked through. Not even the thick black coat had saved him from the way the heavens had opened on them. But before he could make a judgement on the boy’s condition he needed a light. And before he could leave to find a light he needed to know he wasn't fucking dying. “Nea?” Tyki hesitated to call his fellow Noah.

 _“Allen,”_ was the weak, biting correction.

Tyki rocked back on his heels, huffing a relieved sigh. “You’d better not die after all that, boy. I went to a lot of trouble to save you, you know.”

“Name’s Allen,” he insisted, voice wavering.

“How about you start that Innocence up so I can find a light?” Tyki suggested, standing and pushing his soaked hair back from his face.

Allen seemed to concentrate for a moment and there was a short flicker of green flame around his shoulder, but it died out when he barked a yell. “Can’t,” he panted through gritted teeth. “My arm…”

Tyki snorted and muttered, “If I knew all I had to do to break it was stab your shoulder…” while he made for the doors, feeling along the wall for a switch or button to set up the lights.

“I’ve been shot,” Allen stated, almost offended. .

Tyki paused in his search to pin him with an incredulous look, though the effect was somewhat lost in the dark. “I trapped you in a vacuum of empty space,” he reminded skeptically, “and you were _fine.”_

Allen groaned and coughed weakly. “I also recall you tearing a hole in my heart,” he added, “and leaving me to die.”

“That,” Tyki admitted, turning back to look for the light, “is definitely a thing I did. You’ve been through an awful lot, haven’t you boy? Doesn’t it wear you out?”

“I think I’m dying,” he groaned pitifully.

“You’re probably not,” Tyki comforted drily, “but I’ll have to find a light to make a better assessment on that.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them, filled by the dull roar of the rain tearing apart the city outside. Tyki was no longer immediately concerned for the boy - if he was well enough to have that conversation then he probably wouldn’t bleed out by the time Tyki made it back over there. He didn’t end up finding a switch but there was a lamp sitting on a bench by the door and when he managed to turn it on it spread a warm glow of yellow light. Satisfied, he returned to Allen’s side with light in hand and knelt back on the dusty floor.

“You still awake there, boy?” he prodded, setting the light down and settling in a little. Allen peeked his eyes open and made a tired sound of affirmation. “Good,” Tyki asserted, “try to stay that way.”

The corner of Allen’s mouth twitched with a laugh and he asked, “You worried about me, Mikk?”

Tyki snorted but didn’t answer, instead lightly tapping Allen’s red wrist. “You’re going to have to take this off,” he instructed.

“Again?” Allen groaned weakly.

“Not the arm,” Tyki rolled his eyes, “the _coat._ I need to have a look. Don’t much fancy waiting out a storm in a dirty warehouse with a dead exorcist.”

He made a sound of dissatisfaction but moved his right arm to begin unbuttoning the coat anyway, dropping with a groan once it was open. “I’m going to have to sit up, aren’t I?”

“Briefly,” Tyki confirmed happily. “Would you like some help?” Allen nodded, trying not to look relieved, and Tyki clasped his uninjured arm to haul him up so he could peel the coat carefully off the boy’s shoulders. He didn’t bother to pull it out from under him, instead spreading it back down over the dirty floor. Allen laid back slowly, taking stilted breaths. “How many buttons do you _need?”_ Tyki retorted scathingly when he saw the white button-up shirt he was wearing under it, dark red blood streaking pink through the wet cotton. Allen made as though to undo it himself but Tyki slapped his hand away, leaning over him to take care of it. “Oh, let me,” he muttered and made quick work of the buttons. “You’re going to die of old age instead, at this rate.”

Allen laughed weakly and Tyki pulled the shirt off his shoulder, away from the wound. His skin was wet, the mix of blood and sweat and rain sitting pink across his shoulder and chest like rosé.

“It didn’t go out the other side, did it?” he asked, though he was fairly certain he’d have noticed _that._ He pulled the lamp closer and leaned in to peer at the bullet hole, blood still trickling slowly. It had missed his chest, hit him where his pectoral joined to his clavicle. “Do you think it hit the bone?” he asked and pressed his hand against it, fingers passing through Allen’s skin so he could assess the bone with the lightest of touches.

Allen shook his head in response and closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to steady. “Can’t tell,” he bit out, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he struggled to hold back any verbal response to the pain Tyki’s careful prodding was causing. “That whole area is just. On fire?” he offered, voice strained.

“Well I’m no doctor and have very little idea of what I’m doing but I’m pretty sure your collarbone is fractured,” Tyki hummed, pulling his hand away.

“Oh, joy,” Allen gritted out.

“First things first, though,” Tyki sighed, “I have to get that bullet out.” Allen paled and looked about ready to throw up but Tyki held up a hand, stopping him. “Which I can do very quickly and easily and considering it’s not an organ it probably won’t even hurt that much.”

Allen’s expression twisted from nausea to nauseous distaste and he muttered, “Forgot you had experience with that.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Tyki dismissed, waving it away. “Do you want me to stick my hand in your open wound or not?”

Allen grimaced but nodded, settling back and closing his eyes. He took several deep breaths and scrunched his nose up, biting out, “Okay!” Tyki sank his hand into Allen’s shoulder, feeling for the bullet. When his fingers brushed against the metal bead he focused on that, plucking it into his hand and pulling it out quickly. Allen gave a groan that was more like a stifled scream and his face contorted, twisting at the sensation.

“And there we go,” Tyki announced, holding up the small blood-covered bullet for the boy to see. “Not so bad, was it?” he grinned at Allen’s ragged breaths and dirty glare. “I am going to wipe my hands on your shirt, though,” he informed, dropping the bullet on the ground next to the lamp and using the edge of Allen’s bloodstained button up without waiting for his consent, “considering I didn’t bleed all over mine and it’s your blood anyway.”

“Surprised you wouldn’t just lick it off your fingers,” Allen muttered scathingly but did nothing to stop him.

 _“Please,”_ Tyki tutted while he packed the shirt onto the wound and directed Allen’s working hand to hold it there, “the only place I’d lick it is off your lips.”

What.

 _“What?”_ Allen demanded, tearing his arm away to pin Tyki with the most understandable mix of expressions he’d had all day. And considering he’d been grimacing in pain after having been shot, that was a pretty high bar. But it was something between shock, incandescent rage and confusion - as though he wasn’t quite sure _why_ he was so angry. He’d known Tyki to do _far_ more fucked up things than that, after all.

“Not entirely sure,” Tyki admitted, considering. “Not entirely sure I _wouldn’t,”_ he added, tilting his head.

“You would _kiss_ me?” Allen demanded, sputtering something similar to a laugh but much more… not happy.

“Well I never said _that,”_ Tyki defended casually. “Also never said I wouldn’t, though.” Allen looked like he didn’t quite know how he felt about that and rather than reply he laid himself back down with an expression of unhappy contemplation. Tyki rolled his eyes to the ceiling and muttered, “Well, sorry for ruining your day.”

“That’s not-” the exorcist began then sighed, deciding to drop it. “Thank you,” muttered instead, contrite.

Tyki ran over the usual responses briefly: ‘you’re welcome’, ‘any time’, ‘my pleasure’. “Wasn’t like I was going to take the bullet for you,” he answered truthfully.

Allen snorted a laugh and admitted, “Never thought you would.” After a moment’s consideration he asked, “What are you doing in Rio anyway?”

Tyki’s expression twisted with the reminder of why he was even _in_ the dirty warehouse with a bleeding exorcist. “Sheril,” he said simply, face reading bloody murder for when he next got his hands on his brother. “What about you, boy?” he hummed. “I thought you were off gallivanting around America. Wasn’t there a manhunt?”

Allen sighed bitterly and glared down at his left arm. “Apocryphos,” he answered in the same manner as Tyki.

He hummed and nodded understandingly. “Chased you out?”

“I could go to the other side of the world and he’d find me,” he groaned. “It’s really getting annoying.”

Tyki held his chin and hummed appreciatively with a frown. "Someone has to ask though," he stated,  _"what_ are the chances? It's just incredibly uncanny, isn't it? Not only that we're both in the same city but I'm sure you understand that Rio is an incredibly large place."

"Ah," Allen confessed sheepishly, "probably my fault." At Tyki's arched eyebrow he rushed to explain, "Well, not  _me_ me but. Nea must have...  _felt_ something?" he offered. "It wasn't really - not to say that you. Um. It felt like a cry for help," he admitted, eyes looking anywhere but at Tyki. It was hard to tell who he was embarrassed for but after vehemently denying his desire to give Noah the time of day only moments ago Tyki could say a little bit of both. "It was just a sense, you know? Of... panic. And when I got closer there were gunshots and I thought there might be demons and then..." He shrugged his good shoulder and offered an abashed smile. "Guess you had it under wraps."

"And I can confirm," Tyki added bitterly, "there's not a single damn demon in this hemisphere. I'd not be stuck, otherwise." He considered Allen's mention of the mad Innocence-creature-person they'd met briefly and hummed in thought. At Allen's questioning look he explained, “Well, I was just thinking. It would at least take _time_ for Apocryphos to follow you to the other side of the world. And I’ll be going back there - Edo, that is - even if I have to walk the whole way. Maybe it would be… mutually beneficial for us to stick together for a while.”

“Mutually… Mikk, you got me _shot_ within seconds of us running into each other,” Allen retorted, incensed. “How mutual do you expect this benefit to _be?”_

“I,” Tyki stated and didn’t have anything to follow it up. He pursed his lips, thinking. “Well, I didn’t know it was _you,”_ he tried.

“And if you had, I wager we’d still be in this exact same situation,” Allen glared. “Which, to recap: me with a bullet wound and a broken collarbone, being operated on by you in a dirty warehouse in the part of Rio’s downtown that also houses the people I’m guessing you pissed off somehow. The people who shot me. An innocent bystander.”

“At least the company’s good,” Tyki offered primly. Allen shot him a look that wasn’t quite reassuring and he sighed, leaning his weight back on his hands. “Your attitude is the problem, methinks.”

“Or maybe the fact that every time I see you, someone ends up getting hurt?” Allen retorted, bristling.

“That’s just,” Tykki huffed out a breath and waved a hand dismissively, “the result of the lives we live. For instance, I could say the same about you exorcists. Neither of us are strictly _better,_ so you might as well just.” Allen was giving him a look as though daring him to continue but really, he was the one with the hole in his shoulder. “Quit acting all high and mighty about what side of the war you’re on. There _are_ no good guys.”

He frowned at Tyki like he couldn’t quite understand him. “So you don’t believe in what you’re fighting for? Why do you fight at all?”

Tyki sighed and let his eyes slip away. “Of course I do,” he said scathingly, “doesn’t mean I’m blind. I know I’m not a good person.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Allen muttered under his breath.

“And _that,”_ Tyki pointed out, “is what I meant about attitude.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” he asked, tart.

Tyki shook his head with half a laugh and patted his pockets for his cigarette case. “I’m not going to tell you how to live,” he scoffed, “but you’d be much more likeable if you kicked the stigma.” Opening the slim metal box, he found they were a bit damp but not unsalvageable. God, at least he still had that much. No shoes, no money, but thank the heavens for almost-dry cigarettes.

“It’s not exactly a stigma though, is it?” Allen returned coldly. “You and and the others have continuously ruined my life and tried to kill my friends and family.”

“I won’t deny that,” Tyki allowed with a shrug and rolled the cigarettes out onto his hand to set them neatly in front of the lamp to dry. “But,” he continued, “maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to Nea.” He kept the driest of the set out and placed it between his lips then paused, hands resting over his empty pockets. After a moment he closed his eyes with a weak groan, shoulders slumping. “Fuck me,” he spat and angrily plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, flicked it down with the others. At Allen’s alarmed look he bit out, “My matches were in my jacket.” He shook his head in amazement and breathed, “This has been the _worst_ day.”

Allen’s eyebrows arched and he commented, “You didn’t seem mad about it a second ago.”

Tyki sighed and reasoned, “Because I wasn’t. Because I still thought I could sit down at the end of it. And smoke a cigarette.”

“Well, you’ve still got them,” Allen offered.

Tyki lifted his hands in a sarcastic helpless gesture. “But no matches. What am I going to do, _eat_ them?” he scoffed. Allen levered himself up onto his elbow with a grimace and glanced around at their setup. Tyki sighed and shook his head. “Don’t move around so much, boy. You’ll bleed more.” Allen ignored him and sat up properly, finally working his arms out of the wet shirt so he could pack it properly against the hole in his shoulder. Tyki considered reprimanding him again but honestly couldn’t bring himself to care enough to try. “What are you doing?” he asked instead.

“You have a gas lamp right here,” he muttered and picked up the cigarette Tyki had dropped. He placed it on his knee and opened the small glass door, then lifted the lamp between them. “Hold it up, would you?” Tyki arched an eyebrow but leaned forwards to take it from him, keeping it in place while Allen picked up the cigarette from his knee and placed it between his lips. He leaned in and the flame flickered a little from his breath. Tyki found himself watching the way the light cast shadows on his face - pooling under his cheekbones, between his lips. Highlighting the small crease furrowing his brow. There was a moment there, of something. The rain was still hammering on the roof but it had weakened a little, the ferocious edge taken off. And the moment was them sitting together with only a gas lamp for light, Allen’s face lit warm and pretty while he leaned close. The end of the cigarette caught alight and Allen pulled back, taking it from his mouth to wave out the small flame. He held it out filter first and offered Tyki a small, abashed smile. “A slightly less shit day.”

Tyki hesitated for a moment, heart beating, and huffed a quiet laugh before setting the lamp down. “The company’s not so bad, either,” he repeated himself from earlier.

“Yeah, well,” Allen shrugged, “you did pull a bullet out of my arm.” Tyki laughed again and took the cigarette, relishing the first drag. His eyes slipped closed and he held the smoke in his lungs for a short moment before letting it all out with a happy sigh. A less shit day with some not-so-bad company. The rain had already diffused some of the unbearable heat, if not the humidity, and Tyki was prepared to let things start looking up again. “And,” Allen added sheepishly, “after some consideration…” Tyki arched an eyebrow to show he was listening. “You don’t seem to have much intention of killing me,” he admitted with half a laugh, “and I’ll have to wait for the nerves to heal before I can use my arm again…”

“...Which could take weeks,” Tyki observed with a smug grin, eyes sliding open to complete his cat-got-canary expression.

The exorcist nodded and glanced up at him with something daring to be hope in his expression. “Not to mention,” he continued, “you look like you could use a bit of help, yourself.”

“It seems we’ve two sets of feet and one set of shoes,” Tyki observed drily.

“Exactly,” Allen grinned. “So I was thinking. Maybe this thing could be... mutually beneficial. You don’t seem like such a bad person, right now.”

Tyki put the cigarette to his lips for a long drag, smirking the whole while. “Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmured, happy as could be. A slightly less shit day.


End file.
